Page:The children of the night.djvu/29

 No more by summer breezes fanned, The place was desolate and gray; But still my dream was to command New life into that shrunken clay. I tried it. Yes, you scan to-day, With uncommiserating glee, The songs of one who strove to play The broken flutes of Arcady.

So, Rock, I join the common fray, To fight where Mammon may decree; And leave, to crumble as they may, The broken flutes of Arcady.